Of Shadows and Secrets
by Les-Gateaux
Summary: Draco proves that there is more than one way to rise through Voldemort's ranks, and Harry is none too pleased...HD


Disclaimer: -Insert witty disclaimer here-

Yep, all my other fics have been cheerfully abandoned. Please review this one before you kill me. Thanks, all! Post HBP, warnings for slash (now, why would anyone who reads my fics be surprised at that?) and...uhm...we all know the characters are inherently emo/angsty...so...yeah.

**Of Silence and Secrets**

_Kneel._

The cold stone presses against his bare skin, leaving small ridges behind, but his attention is focused primarily on the figure in front of him. It is, of course, the height of idiocy to disregard the Dark Lord's commands, and as he does not particularly hold a death wish - can't afford one, really - he drops quickly to his knees, letting a curtain of silvery hair swing forward to conceal his face. _Yes, my Lord. _

_You're very obedient. _Icy fingers tip his head upwards, dispelling the protective screen. _More than Lucius ever was._

_Thank you, my Lord. _He shivers involuntarily as the hand withdraws. And wishes, for a fleeting instant, that his father was dead, so that Voldemort would hold nothing over him anymore. Narcissa, he remembers, is long gone, a quick accident the day after the Dark Lord learns that Draco was not the one who killed the former Headmaster.

He hears the sound of cloth swishing, sees a swath of obsidian material drop heavily to the ground. Pale grey eyes close momentarily as he gulps in air, trying not to wince. He expects the coolly indifferent voice, the feel of the wand against his throat. _Pleasure me._

_Yes, my Lord,_ he says unhesitatingly, and those eyes stare blankly into space as he moves forward.

* * *

Moonlight illuminates the curling letters winding over the surface of the marble. The tomb stands sentinel over an abandoned school, the perfect position for the fallen Headmaster. Curled in the shadow of the tomb, he rests, too weary to be cautious. He is not at all surprised to find that he is, indeed, being watched, and the wand pointing at his throat a second later throws him back into the previous scene.

'Stand.'

He rises, slowly, the cowl of his cloak completely obscuring his face. Curious, he studies his adversary's features, and almost smiles; grown out, the dark hair has a mild semblance of order, and the scar is prominently displayed, bangs pushed aside. The eyes are still the same - perhaps a bit harder, a bit angrier, but still glittering brightly behind wire-rimmed glasses.

'Who are you?'

'Potter, you're an Auror, you should be able to tell - ' And he pushes back the cloak, forcing a smirk onto his face.

The cold voice changes to a virulent hiss. 'Malfoy.'

'Good, Potter. It seems your memory's better than I'd guessed...'

Harry moves forward, wand still outstretched. 'What are you doing here?'

'You can put down that wand. I can't run.' Draco flexes his legs slightly to show that they pain him, and leaves the reason up to the other boy's guesswork. 'Besides, you'll recall, of course, that I don't know how to kill...'

'You say that? You're Voldemort's second, aren't you?'

Silver eyes shimmer. 'There's more than one way to gain the Dark Lord's favor, Potter.' And this time, he emphasizes the grimace as he shifts his position, laughing at the way Harry's expression flickers. 'Get it now?'

He does not know why Harry is so furious, does not understand the underlying hurt when the Auror snarls, 'You've become Voldemort's slut?'

'I usually allude to it as favors in exchange for favors.' He is kidding himself, of course; Voldemort always has the upper hand, always holds Lucius' life in check. But still, the facade of control is the only thing preventing him from complete insanity. 'Well? I'm his second, aren't I? Don't you plan on doing something dramatic?'

'Do you want to die?'

Coral lips twist into the typical sneer. 'I don't particularly feel like having a philosophical discussion right now. I'll tell you some other time. Bella will be coming sooner or later to fetch me. She always does. Make up your mind, Potter.'

He sees the wrist flick slightly. '_Impedimen-'_

_'Protego.'_ The curse bounces back in the Auror's direction, and Harry dodges quickly. 'I'll give you a choice. Either you kill me or you walk away. I will _not_ be taken into custody.'

Silence stretches onwards, lasting an eternity. Somewhere, a voice calls the name _Draco_, yet neither one turns. He feels the polished wood sliding against his callused fingers as the wand drops to the ground.

Draco smiles slightly, the aristocratic lines of his face relaxing, and moves a few steps closer. One slender hand brushes over Harry's cheek, and he laughs softly at the sharp intake of breath. 'How interesting,' he murmurs, his voice completely unamused, 'for the Chosen One to fall in love with Voldemort's protege...'

'Who's in love?' Harry snaps, slapping the delicate hand away.

'Was I mistaken...?' The other boy leans forward, pressing his lithe form against his companion's, and gently kisses him - not more than a chaste brush of lips before he pushes forward, sending Harry toppling into the undergrowth. 'Goodbye, Harry,' he says, then turns. 'Bella, I'm here.'

He watches as Bella leads him away, then lifts his wand from where it lies on the ground. Tracing a finger over the outline of his lips, he kneels by the tomb, presses his forehead against the cold marble, and cries.

* * *

_April 22 - Ministry officials have announced the death of Draco Malfoy, a former Hogwarts students who was coerced towards You-Know-Who's side and apparently managed to shake off the bonds at the last minute. After killing three other followers, including his aunt Bellatrix Lestrange, he was subdued by the Dark Lord and subsequently killed. The only item found on him was an envelope addressed to the 'Chosen One', containing only the two words 'I do'..._

* * *

...most pointless drabble ever. Oh well. Back to my ffnet hiatus, I guess. -Song


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